Lieut. Hugh Montagu Butterworth (Memorial Book)

[stiletto_33853]

We are in the front trench and in a tricky place, as is usually the case with the R.B. The Germans are about one hundred and fifty yards off, and we've got a listening post going half way out. It's eerie out there at night. Also we're not wired yet, which is bad. I expect I shall have to do some of the wiring, - a rotten business - at night of course, and if you're spotted, what ho! for the machine guns. Sed faciendum est. The night passed away quietly and we hoped for a good day's work - spoilt by our confounded gunners wanting to bombard; it's a sort of obsession of theirs. Oh, incidentally, according to the Daily Mail and other experts, they're just due for another go at Calais. If they do it while we're here, we shall probably be scuppered, the front line always is. I've got a ripping map of all the trenches round here taken from an aeroplane photo; I wish I could send it to you. It's an extraordinary thing. You never imagined such networks of trenches.

We had a ripping rest before coming in. I finished with a momentous dinner - the sort of dinner that makes you very nervous when you have to halt and be identified by a sentry on the way home. But I think we'd earned a little dinner, don't you? We got dashed little water (observe the train of thought) in this front trench and it's very hot; otherwise it isn't bad - for a trench. I must tool off and look round.

[stiletto_33853]

Friday, 4.30 p.m.

They've started the bombarding again. Our people must have too many shells or something. They hit it up for an hour and a half at nine, then started again at three, and I believe are going to have another go at 5.30. We haven't had very many near us so far. However it's a dashed nuisance as one can't get anything done. The artillery aren't a bit popular with the infantry in this trench war except in emergencies. On a good quiet day the artillery tee of behind, and of course the Germans retaliate on our trenches. We can't do anything except sit still and hope for the finish. I've had rather a good day really though, as there wasn't much doing, and so I have snatched five hours sleep altogethyer since we got in. That's the best I've ever had in the twenty-four hours of trenches. We've got a rum selection in my bit of trench, a machine gun section, and six bombers up the listening post in front. If only we had wire out I'd be easy, but as it is one may so easily be rushed at night.

[stiletto_33853]

Saturday, 7 a.m. [July 10].

A very nasty time since I wrote last. The third bombardment proved one of the intense variety. In the middle of it one of my parapets was blown in and all the men buried, one horribly hurt. It was a ghastly business. His eye was taken clean out, his nose broken, and several of his teeth driven down his throat. Of course he was smothered in blood. He was wonderfully plucky. We patched him up as well as we could, and after things quietened down managed to get him away. He may live. Later when night came on we atrated wiring, but didn't get a lot of work done as the Germans got wind of it, I fancy. One man drilled plumb through the leg - I should say by an explosive bullet. We got him in over the parapet and dressed him and tied the leg to a rifle and got four men to take him down. This is a hopeless trench to get wounded away from. It is impossible by day, and frightfully difficult by night. One of our men went right out to the German lines last night and got to their parapet, and tried to find out what they were doing. He was nearly nabbed, but got back.

It's comparitively calm now, but we shan't get much peace, I fear. It's an awful thing to see your men knocked out in this way. Thank the Lord, the wind is still blowing the right way, so we are spared the additional joy of gas. I hear rumours of more bombarding to-day. -! Must stop for a bit.

[stiletto_33853]

Saturday, 7.20 p.m.

The day goes on. Things have quietened considerably, tho' shells still hurtle; in fact they've done nothing else since dewy morn. But the foe have devoted their energies more to other trenches. I must say our artillery have been in some form on the whole. From my periscopic views and occasional peeps over the parapet I have observed German sandbags and redoubts leaping heavenwards a good deal. Whether we have slain any enemy I don't know. Perhaps what cheers one most is that the wind remains in the west. In previous existences I have watched the wind at Waganui, to see how it would effect me biking to the links, but never have I viewed a good sharp breeze with such joy as I do at present.

I wonder what we shall all be like after the war - those of us who happen to scrape through - I suppose a few will. If anyone drops a bucket or anything noisy we shall all with one accord drop behind an invisible parapet. If the word 'gas' is whispered we shall all finger our pockets and necks for respirators and smoke helmets, uttering weird and deadly oaths. We shall always expect to find a town in ruins, and the first thing we shall do will be to dig in the case of shelling. At moment of writing a taube is up and is being shrapnelled, but it isn't hit. Aeroplanes are hardly ever hit - an aeroplaner's life is the safest job here except perhaps the ASC. Funny, isn't it? Then come the cavalry, but they may have to go to trenches sometimes. Then artillery, they have their purple patches:- lastly (easily) infantry who dwell on intimate terms with death for twenty-four hours a day. This afternoon I went to bury two of the poor fellows killed this morning, and get their equipment and identity discs, and pay-books etc. A month ago I couldn't have faced men in that condition. One man had lost both legs and most of one side. The other was horribly mutilated too. Our stretcher-bearers are fine fellows. They have to do the grimmest things, but do them willingly.

Goodnight; it's just 'stand to,' and I must prepare for my third examination of rifles to-day.

I hope the Germans don't attack to-night !!!!

[shrieks of 'No, No,' and 'Coward.'

[marina]

Frightfulness after frightfulness..

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

Sunday, 10 a.m. [July 12]

Quite a good night after the alarms and discursions of the day. Things had quietened down by 'stand to' in the evening, and so we decided to do some work. I took out two men to wire in front. It's most entertaining work; I really enjoyed it like anything. First we threw the wire over the parapet, - French concertina wire - then scrambled over landing on all fours. Then the two men came over and we dragged it forward about two yards; then opened it out and pegged it in. The first bit took us some time, as I got it to close and had to alter position. Every time flares go up you hide your face in the earth; the grass is fairly long. We got a little mild sniping in two places, but they were shots aimed at out parapet, not at us, I think, and when we got the idea of them we could keep out of line all right. Having got it pegged down we crept back and swarmed over. Was in considerable danger of extinction from one of my own sentries, as it being darkish I came back to the wrong bay. The sentry I'm glad to say stood the men to on catching sight of us, and I narrowly escaped man-handling from one of my corporals. Quite a good night in fact. There's fun in that sort of thing, and the excitement to keep you going, whereas this shell-fire is simply rotten and you can't do anything at all. I got to bed at three and slept like a top till eight, the best sleep I've had in a trench. Wr're expecting more bombarding this morning, and then peace for a bit, I believe, is the programme. There was very heavy firing away to the north last night, Belgian or French it was, I should think. We shall hear of the result I suppose from the papers later. Such is war.

Cheer Ho ! I'm just going for another wander. It's rather monotonous workl. Every sentry you pass has to say as you pass; "No: - post: - platoon, all correct," or whatever it is. You say "Right," or "Thanks" or "Carry on," or some other genial remark, have a look yourself by periscope or over the top, and carry on to the next bay. - Au revoir.

[stiletto_33853]

Sunday, 2.30 p.m.

A delightful day so far. We are doing great work too. We have got all our men ranged on certain points of their line, and a very sharp watch is kept, and when anything moves, or a spade shows, or a sandbag heaves we let them have it. In fact we're brewing all the frightfulness we can for them. It makes all the difference with the men. A fortnight ago in these particular trenches the German was top dog. If we hove over a shell they threw back three, their snipers simply dominated the line. The brigade before us did excellent work, and I think we're carrying on. Now we fling shells at him regardless of expense, and really we've stopped his sniping tremendously. It improves the morale of all concerned to feel they're on the offensive. Shelling to-day is mild; the only shell that has been nastily near us was one of our own high explosives, which caused us to warble down the phone to some tune. However it does'nt often happen. There's a lot of work to be done to-night.. I expect I shall have to be in front most of the night, wiring and building up the parapet a bit.

[stiletto_33853]

Monday, 7.30 a.m. [July 12]

A night with the wind up ? that is the army expression for an evening when everyone suspects everybody else of sinister designs. Towards evening my captain became convinced that we were going to be attacked. His only reason seemed to be that things had been quiet for some time previously; so we stood to with some zeal. Things began to buzz when I noticed that flare lights were being shot up from some way in front of the German trenches. Immediately afterwards listening-post reported same thing, and that there were Germans in a sap place running out to our lines. This was endorsed by a man I sent out to reconnoitre. Mind you, its very easy for men to get a bit rattled on a dark night with shrapnel about, and with a general feeling of suspicion around. The officer's role is to patrol the trench in a supercilious and easy manner, as if he was absolutely happy. I tried to do this. At about this stage we had several shrapnel casualties. One not very bad case was sent down the communication with one of our men. The latter soon came darting back with news that C.T. was blown in. I consigned him to blazes, and told him that if it was blown in he must walk round the bad places over the open; then detailed three men with spades to put things right. These men darted off and returned later to say they'd walked all through the trench and out the other end, and couldn't find any place blown in. Apparently our friend had met a few sandbags on the floor and was rattled so jumped to conclusions.

[stiletto_33853]

At about the same time the following messages came down the battalion. (1) Stand to and prepare to fire. (2) Fix Swords. (3) I forget the third. (4) Stand Down and continue working parties. These messages nearly drove us mad. We refused to take them as their source was not stated. Apparently a company had spotted some Germans, and orders had been given, and the message came round. At the time it was confusing and not very funny. I felt like a man in the maddest of plays, for a bit. So things ambled on. I had 'Germans in front' reported to me several times, but I think they were imaginary. After midnight we got some wiring done. Owing to reduced number of officers I always get duty till 3.30 a.m., and get a bit of a rest then.

We are relieved to-night and got to a support trench, fairly comfortable, I believe.

[marina]

Glad the declivity was not blown in and hoping we will meet Quick again!

What is the difference between French barbed wre and other kinds?

Marina

[marina]

There's an Alfred Quick on CWGC - aged 19, 12th Battalion Rifle Brigade. Did April, 1916. I wonder if that's out aperture and declivity lad?

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

Marina, Will have a little look and see if we can find out.

Andy

[stiletto_33853]

Just checked his medal rolls. He was only in the 12th Rifle Brigade, D.C.M. winner 30/3/16, S/714.

Andy

[marina]

Thanks for the check! Worth a look anyway...

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

Wednesday [July 14]

Why not go on writing ? The night before last we were relieved from front trenches. What a night it was ! The battalion relieving had never taken over a trench before, and they didn't half mess it up. Any way it's an intricate business, and our trench was difficult to relieve. Any way everything went wrong, and for half an hour my trench was held by five sentries and Butterworth. I was preparing to fire the last cartridge and die laughing, when some cheery lads turned up. True, they walked through and round and disappeared again, but I gathered them in. I then proceeded to place the men. They were absolute fools, and I did it entirely by profanity and man-handling. The child-sub. relieving me was a good boy and did what I told him. I then gave him all the necessary tips, handed over stores, and tooled off with my faithful five. Later on we ran into a lot of sappers who were doing the wrong thing chiefly, whom I cursed with such fluency that their officer (whom I hadn't seen and who wore whiskers) said, 'what d'you mean by talking to my men like that, Sir ?' Further on the whole trench was choc-o-bloc with some of these relieving coves. We cursed them and got them more or less right, and I got out by climbing over the parapet and running for it. We got away finally and down about two miles of trench to our present place in reserve. We live beneath the earth here in dug-outs and have to dive if an aeroplane arrives.

[stiletto_33853]

We spend the night rationing ourselves and the men in the trenches. Rationing consists of (1) Carrying food. (2) Carrying water. (3) Carrying stores, wire etc. (4) Falling over wire. (5) Falling into holes. (6) Awearing heavily and heartily. (7) Being shelled all the time. But to me shelling doesn't have half the sane terrors if one's out in the open. I'd much rather move over an open field and put up with indirect shell fire than have direct fire in the safest trench in Belgium.

The officers of two of our companies (including ours) were called up before the Commanding Officer this morning and praised for our work in the trenches. It is about the first time on record that he has praised anyone. My chest assumed unusual proportions. It is nice though when you come out of trenches tired and feeling you've worked your eyes out, to have a few kind things said about one.

I think as far as our battalion goes we're at just the worst point now. At first everything is fresh and even shelling has its points. Then you get nervy and are afraid of death, then one gets callous. My nerves are surprisingly steady, I find. Several of the officers are awfully jumpy. My turn will come, no doubt, but I am pleasantly surprised that I am not more terrorized. But it's fairly rotten really.

I dare say you'd like to know how the trenches are worked. A division has a certain front, half a mile to one mile. A brigade takes up the front trenches, half in the firing trench, half in support. Behind the support - about two miles - are the brigade reserve, either in dug-outs (where we are now). Then there is a brigade about three miles back again. It is the depth formation, and effective, I should say.

[stiletto_33853]

Wednesday, 6.30 p.m.

The day drags on, deadly dull. We have nothing to day by day except keep hidden from aircraft. The atmosphere in this dug-out is awful. It is eight feet by six, and we've got got three in here at present - singing. Also it's raining, and we have to be out all night rationing. Of course we've got no sort of chance of change of clothes with us, and it's beastly cold at night. Like an ass I brought up a Burberry instead of a great coat this time, and it's frightfully chilly. Also and beside which, lying in a dug-out all day is very demoralizing. I didn't bring a book up this time, but shall in future. We've actually had no shelling for over an hour. Long may it continue ! In fact things are a little boring at present, as I have indicated.

Oh, by the way, get the Sphere each week, Matania's pictures of life on the English line are jolly good. He's been over here and knows something about it. He's had a lot about our particular bit of Hades.

The huns have opened up the shelling again. As a matter of fact it always starts about now; we call it "The Evening Hate." Let me discourse to you about shells and their habits. Firstly there is Jack Johnson. He is simply terrific, of course, and makes a hole big enough for a motor-bus to get in; this is true talk. Then there's a fellow we call 'Rubber-Heels,' I call him Alfonso sometimes. He's a long distance bloke, 'cos he doesn't come near us. Then there's the high explosive sport. I think he's what they call the coal-box. We call him 'Crump,' 'cos he sounds like that. He's a nasty fellow and makes a beastly mess. He is fairly local, I'm glad to say. Then there's shrapnel of course. I don't think we've got a nom-de-guerre for him. My hat ! he goes off with a crack, and the bits go whizzing over one's head - if one is lucky. Then there is the 'Whizz-bang.' I fancy he's a howitzer, frightfully fast. He's used on the front trench chiefly. He comes so fast that it's almost impossible to get down to him; rather a beast. Then we have the trench mortar shot from near us.

[stiletto_33853]

He goes up well and then owing to law of gravitation comes down again; a powerful bloke. There is also rifle grenades and bombs, all hostile folk. Then the gas shell. I think he doesn't hurt much on explosion unless a bit hits you. I've had 'em burst pretty near too in the open and have only been knocked over. But the fumes are nasty; I think I swear at them more than at anything. However I can usually worry through them without a helmet. It touches the eyes up. Lastly we have gas proper squirted at you out of a tube. If ever I catch a man suspected of squirting gas, I'll slay him in a peculiarly painful manner. i think we're all a bit afraid of it. That's more or less the complete set. One hardly counts rifles and machine guns except in an actual attack. Snipers snipe all day, of course, but one doesn't mind that hiss of a bullet after shells; also if they hit you they do it decently, and don't cut you in half or tear your inside out. I found some dum-dums in an old German dug-out the other day - the bullet turned. One finds all sorts of things in German trenches.

This letter is assuming alarming proportions. Awful thought ! We've got at least two more days in the underground. In future days I shall build me a sky-scraper and live on the roof. Au revoir.

[stiletto_33853]

Thursday, 10 a.m., July 15th.

More experiences, but this time not necessarily of a warlike kind. I left here at 8.45 with 100 men to carry up 4000 sand-bags to the trenches. Never having been along that particular bit before I was a bit nervous, but I managed it all right. It's very trying work leading 100 fairly heavily laden men. One is sniped at intervals, and shells appear now and then. But you must not go more than just over a mile an hour; you long to hustle, but you can't, as we tooled along it began to rain. Later, on the return journey it was pouring. By the time we got home we were fairly dripping. We turned in and the rain got worse. My dug-out leaked a bit, but nearly all the men's leaked a lot, and some were inches deep in water by morning. So we all turned out at 4, and got to work making fresh dug-outs and draining and so on. It took us till 9. Rain however has two points. It prevents gas, and it seems to drive the artillery indoors. Result, a wonderful quiet reigns over the land. I expect we shall have a lot of frightfulness this afternoon to make up for it. With luck we get out to-morrow evening, but of course anything may happen. No news at present.

[stiletto_33853]

Thursday, 4.35.

We've just had a very unpleasant hour. Our gunners behind started whanhing away like lunatics. I should say they flung 100 shells over. So of course the Germans replied a little later. We had a fiendish time, 2 men killed and one wounded. One shell pitched 10 yards from my dug-out, and another 3 yards. Firtunately they weren't big shells and the explosions were forward. They fired wonderfully well, got our range in a minute. No doubt we shall get it again to-morrow. On the whole I think it was the crispest hour we've had yet. Both the men died instantaneously, I am glad to say. They're going away to-night and being relieved, and I believe they were simply shooting away to amuse themselves - The artillery get all the fun out of this war, and the infantry get slain for their fun.

[marina]

That's the best description of the different types of artillery I've seen.

Marina

[stiletto_33853]

Friday, 1 p.m., July 16.

I fancy the worst has happened, and we're not going out to-night, but have to wait till Sunday. It's a nasty blow as we're sick to death of the place. Six days in dug-outs under constant shell-fire is quite suffish. We have been shelled this morning practically all the time. I suppose it's the battery hard by they're aiming at, but we get a good percentage of it. The firing trench is bliss as compared to this.

The rumour is going round this morning that the Turks are suing for peace.

[stiletto_33853]

10 p.m.

On the whole I think the most depressing day I've ever spent. There are at least two batteries just by us - one about 40 yards behind us, and they fired without ceasing from 10 to 6. Apparently they took over last night and had several days allowance of ammunition in stock, and so loosed it off. The Germans didn't reply with the venom we expected, but we had it quite enough, thank you ! Imagine us cooped up all day in dug-outs that are barely splinter-proof, let alone shrapnel or shell-proof, while these infernal shells whizzed and whizzed and burst. Heavens ! we are sick of it. Swear? I don't think ! Give me fire trenches every time. However as we shall be in reserve again from time to time, we are importing a gramophone and numerous records, so that when these gunners start off on their morning's hate or their afternoon's frightdulness we shall turn on ragtime.

Also it's raining, and my roof leaks. Everyone else is out with ration parties. It's my turn at home. They'll have a jolly time, roads, trenches and paths swimming in mud, men falling down, every one at his profanest.

I have now had my clothes on without change for eight days. I slip off my socks and boots and wash my feet in the morning, also shave, wash face and hands, and, if lucky, neck, and give my teeth a scrub. But apart from that I go unwashen. Nice, isn't it ? However, I find one gets used to dirt in time. Anyway, I'm feeling better now. I've had a good tot on it, and the shelling has stopped (incidentally that confounded gunner loosed off again as I wrote 'shelling.')

[liverpool annie]

See Andy ! .... I should never go by first impressions ....... I REALLY like this guy now !

I just wish we could have a happy ending - but of course we won't !!

Annie

[stiletto_33853]

It is quaint in reserve at night. Here I am in my dug-out with a candle and the door blocked to keep in the light. On the floor my waterproof sheet and a few sand-bags. My pillow is my haversack, my knapsack thing and an inflated pillow affair that is puncured and dis-inflates in about half an hour. All round is the incessant rumble of rifle-fire, with now and then guns and machine-guns. Rifle-fire one regards now as a mere incident, but I must confess to a respect for high explosive. They make such an awful mess of one, and I hate lying about with my inside hanging out and my body in Belgium and legs in France. But no doubt that's mere prejudice on my part.

Have you ever studied the great theory of re-action ? e.g. I have been horribly hipped all day, lying doggo to accopaniment of shells, and now quiet (relative) reigns, I have fed and had a good drink, I feel as happy as a king - reaction. When we 'touch bottom' the orsifers of "D" Troop gather in this dug-out and we sing. It does us good, but we are not encouraged to foregather during shelling, for they say, 'We don't want the whole lot of you scuppered together.'

The great point of this war is that everyone is expected to be going to be killed some time, unless he has the luck to be wounded instead; that is quite the understood point of view. No doubt sound. I'm not particularly afrai9d of death, but I dislike the thought of dying because I enjoy life so much and want to enjoy it such a lot more.