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FOREWORD
FOREWORD
Down South, in the Valley of the Somme, far from the spots recorded in this book, I began to write this story. In billets it was. I strolled across the old farmyard and into the wood beyond. Sitting by a gurgling little stream, I began, with the aid of a notebook and a pencil, to record the joys and sorrows of my first six months in France. I do not claim any unique quality for these experiences. Many thousands have had the same. I have merely, by request, made a record of my times out there, in
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LANDING AT HAVRE—TORTONI'S—FOLLOW THE TRAM LINES—ORDERS FOR THE FRONT
LANDING AT HAVRE—TORTONI'S—FOLLOW THE TRAM LINES—ORDERS FOR THE FRONT
Gliding up the Seine, on a transport crammed to the lid with troops, in the still, cold hours of a November morning, was my debut into the war. It was about 6 a.m. when our boat silently slipped along past the great wooden sheds, posts and complications of Havre Harbour. I had spent most of the twelve-hour trip down somewhere in the depths of the ship, dealing out rations to the hundred men that I had brought with me from Plymouth. This sounds a comparatively simple process, but not a bit of it.
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TORTUOUS TRAVELLING—CLIPPERS AND TABLETS—DUMPED AT A SIDING—I JOIN MY BATTALION
TORTUOUS TRAVELLING—CLIPPERS AND TABLETS—DUMPED AT A SIDING—I JOIN MY BATTALION
Not much sleep that night, a sort of feverish coma instead: wild dreams in which I and the gendarme were attacking a German trench, the officer in charge of which we found to be the Base Camp Adjutant after all. However, I got up early—packed my few belongings in my valise, which had mysteriously turned up from the docks, and went off on the tram down to Havre. That hundred men I had brought over had nothing to do with me now. I was entirely on my own, and was off to the Front to join my battali
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THOSE PLUGSTREET TRENCHES—MUD AND RAIN—FLOODED OUT—A HOPELESS DAWN
THOSE PLUGSTREET TRENCHES—MUD AND RAIN—FLOODED OUT—A HOPELESS DAWN
An extraordinary sensation—the first time of going into trenches. The first idea that struck me about them was their haphazard design. There was, no doubt, some very excellent reason for someone or other making those trenches as they were; but they really did strike me as curious when I first saw them. A trench will, perhaps, run diagonally across a field, will then go along a hedge at right angles, suddenly give it up and start again fifty yards to the left, in such a position that it is bound
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MORE MUD—RAIN AND BULLETS—A BIT OF CAKE—"WIND UP"—NIGHT ROUNDS
MORE MUD—RAIN AND BULLETS—A BIT OF CAKE—"WIND UP"—NIGHT ROUNDS
I wrote that "poem" in those—trenches, so you can see the sort of state to which I was reduced. Well, my first trench night was over; the dawn had broken—everything else left to break had been seen to by the artillery, which started off generally at about eight. And what a fearful long day it seemed, that first one! As soon as it was light I began scrambling about, and having a good look at the general lie of things. In front was a large expanse of root field, at the further side of which a long
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MY MAN FRIDAY—"CHUCK US THE BISCUITS"—RELIEVED—BILLETS
MY MAN FRIDAY—"CHUCK US THE BISCUITS"—RELIEVED—BILLETS
It was during this first time up in the trenches that I got a soldier servant. As I had arrived only just in time to go with the battalion to the trenches, the acquisition had to be made by a search in the mud. I found a fellow who hadn't been an officer's servant before, but who wanted to be. I liked the look of him; so feeling rather like Robinson Crusoe, when he booked up Friday, "I got me a man." He lived in a dug-out about five yards away, and from then onwards continued with me right to th
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THE TRANSPORT FARM—FLEECED BY THE FLEMISH—RIDING—NEARING CHRISTMAS
THE TRANSPORT FARM—FLEECED BY THE FLEMISH—RIDING—NEARING CHRISTMAS
It was about 9 p.m. when we turned into the courtyard of the farm. My sergeant saw to the unlimbering, and dismissed the section, whilst I went into the farm and dismantled myself of all my tackle, such as revolver, field-glass, greatcoat, haversacks, etc. My servant had, of course, preceded me, and by the time I had made a partial attempt at cleaning myself, he had brought in a meal of sorts and laid it on the oilcloth-covered table by the stove. I was now joined by the transport officer and th
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A PROJECTED ATTACK—-DIGGING A SAP— AN 'ELL OF A NIGHT—THE ATTACK— PUNCTURING PRUSSIANS
A PROJECTED ATTACK—-DIGGING A SAP— AN 'ELL OF A NIGHT—THE ATTACK— PUNCTURING PRUSSIANS
O One evening I was sitting, coiled up in the slime at the bottom of my dug-out, toying with the mud enveloping my boots, when a head appeared at a gap in my mackintosh doorway and said, "The Colonel wants to see you, sir." So I clambered out and went across the field, down a trench, across a road and down a trench again to where the headquarter dug-outs lay all in a row. I came to the Colonel's dug-out, where, by the light of a candle-end stuck on an improvised table, he was sitting, busily exp
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CHRISTMAS EVE——A LULL IN HATE— BRITON CUM BOCHE
CHRISTMAS EVE——A LULL IN HATE— BRITON CUM BOCHE
Shortly after the doings set forth in the previous chapter we left the trenches for our usual days in billets. It was now nearing Christmas Day, and we knew it would fall to our lot to be back in the trenches again on the 23rd of December, and that we would, in consequence, spend our Christmas there. I remember at the time being very down on my luck about this, as anything in the nature of Christmas Day festivities was obviously knocked on the head. Now, however, looking back on it all, I wouldn
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SOUVENIRS—A RIDE TO NIEPPE—TEA AT H.Q.—TRENCHES ONCE MORE
SOUVENIRS—A RIDE TO NIEPPE—TEA AT H.Q.—TRENCHES ONCE MORE
A couple of days after Christmas we left for billets. These two days were of a very peaceful nature, but not quite so enthusiastically friendly as the day itself. The Germans could be seen moving about in their trenches, and one felt quite at ease sitting on the top of our parapet or strolling about the fields behind our lines. It was during these two days that I managed to get a German rifle that I had had my eye on for a month. It lay out in the open, near one or two corpses between our trench
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MY PARTIAL ESCAPE FROM THE MUD—THE DESERTED VILLAGE—MY "COTTAGE"
MY PARTIAL ESCAPE FROM THE MUD—THE DESERTED VILLAGE—MY "COTTAGE"
Our next time up after our Christmas Day experiences were full of incident and adventure. During the peace which came upon the land around the 25th of December we had, as I mentioned before, been able to stroll about in an altogether unprecedented way. We had had the courage to walk into the mangled old village just behind our front line trenches, and examine the ruins. I had never penetrated into this gloomy wreck of a place, even at night, until after Christmas. It had just occasionally caught
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STOCKTAKING—FORTIFYING—NEBULOUS FRAGMENTS
STOCKTAKING—FORTIFYING—NEBULOUS FRAGMENTS
Hudson, myself, his servant and my servant, all crushed into that house that night. What a relief it was! We all slept in our greatcoats on the floor, which was as hard as most floors are, and dirtier than the generality; but being out of the water and able to stretch oneself at full length made up for all deficiencies. Hudson and I both slept in the perforated room; the servants in the larger chamber, near the fire bucket. I got up just before dawn as usual, and taking advantage of the grey lig
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A BRAIN WAVE—MAKING A "FUNK HOLE" —PLUGSTREET WOOD—SNIPING
A BRAIN WAVE—MAKING A "FUNK HOLE" —PLUGSTREET WOOD—SNIPING
On arriving up at St. Yvon for our third time round there, we—as usual now—went into our cottage again, and the regiment spread itself out around the same old trenches. There was always a lot of work for me to do at nights, as machine guns always have to be moved as occasion arises, or if one gets a better idea for their position. By this time I had one gun in the remnant of a house about fifty yards away from our cottage. This was a reserve gun, and was there carrying out an idea of mine, i.e.
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ROBINSON CRUSOE—THAT TURBULENT TABLE
ROBINSON CRUSOE—THAT TURBULENT TABLE
By this time we had really got our little house quite snug. A hole in the floor, a three-legged chair, and brown paper pushed into the largest of the holes in the walls—what more could a man want? However, we did want something more, and that was a table. One gets tired of balancing tins of pl—(nearly said it again)—marmalade on one's knee and holding an enamel cup in one hand and a pocket-knife in the other. So we all said how nice a table would be. I determined to say no more, but to show by d
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THE AMPHIBIANS—FED UP, BUT DETERMINED —THE GUN PARAPET
THE AMPHIBIANS—FED UP, BUT DETERMINED —THE GUN PARAPET
So you see, life in our cottage was quite interesting and adventurous in its way. At night our existence was just the same as before; all the normal work of trench life. Making improvements to our trenches led to endless work with sandbags, planks, dug-outs, etc. My particular job was mostly improving machine-gun positions, or selecting new sites and carrying out removals, And so the long dark dreary nights went on. The men garrisoning the little cracked-up village lived mostly in cellars. Often
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ARRIVAL OF THE "JOHNSONS"—"WHERE DID THAT ONE GO?"—THE FIRST FRAGMENT DISPATCHED—THE EXODUS—WHERE?
ARRIVAL OF THE "JOHNSONS"—"WHERE DID THAT ONE GO?"—THE FIRST FRAGMENT DISPATCHED—THE EXODUS—WHERE?
Shortly after these events we experienced rather a nasty time in the village. It had been decided, way back somewhere at headquarters, that it was essential to hold the village in a stronger way than we had been doing. More men were to be kept there, and a series of trenches dug in and around it, thus forming means for an adequate defence should disaster befall our front line trenches, which lay out on a radius of about five hundred yards from the centre of the village. This meant working partie
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NEW TRENCHES—THE NIGHT INSPECTION— LETTER FROM THE "BYSTANDER"
NEW TRENCHES—THE NIGHT INSPECTION— LETTER FROM THE "BYSTANDER"
Next day we discovered the mystery of our sudden removal. The battle of Neuve Chapelle was claiming considerable attention, and that was where we were going. We were full of interest and curiosity, and were all for getting there as soon as possible. But it was not to be. Mysterious moves were being made behind the scenes which I, and others like me, will never know anything about; but, anyway, we now suddenly got another bewildering order. After a day spent in Armentières we were told to stand b
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WULVERGHEM—THE DOUVE—CORDUROY BOARDS—BACK AT OUR FARM
WULVERGHEM—THE DOUVE—CORDUROY BOARDS—BACK AT OUR FARM
We got out of the frying-pan into the fire when we went to Wulverghem—a much more exciting and precarious locality than Plugstreet. During all my war experiences I have grown to regard Plugstreet as the unit of tranquillity. I have never had the fortune to return there since those times mentioned in previous chapters. When you leave Plugstreet you take away a pleasing memory of slime and reasonable shelling, which is more than you can say for the other places. If you went to Plugstreet after, sa
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THE PAINTER AND DECORATOR—FRAGMENTS FORMING—NIGHT ON THE MUD PRAIRIE
THE PAINTER AND DECORATOR—FRAGMENTS FORMING—NIGHT ON THE MUD PRAIRIE
Had a fairly peaceful night. I say fairly because when one has to get up three or four times to see whether the accumulated rattle of rifle fire is going to lead to a battle, or turn out only to be merely "wind up," it rather disturbs one's rest. You see, had an attack of some sort come on, yours truly would have had to run about a mile and a half to some central spot to overlook the machine-gun department. I used to think that to be actually with one gun was the best idea, but I subsequently fo
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VISIONS OF LEAVE—DICK TURPIN—LEAVE!
VISIONS OF LEAVE—DICK TURPIN—LEAVE!
Our first time in the Douve trenches was mainly uneventful, but we all decided it was not as pleasant as St. Yvon. For my part, it was fifty per cent. worse than St. Yvon; but I was now buoyed up by a new light in the sky, which made the first time in more tolerable than it might otherwise have been. It was getting near my turn for leave! I had been looking forward to this for a long time, but there were many who had to take their turn in front of me, so I had dismissed the case for a bit. Recen
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THAT LEAVE TRAIN—MY OLD PAL—LONDON AND HOME—THE CALL OF THE WILD
THAT LEAVE TRAIN—MY OLD PAL—LONDON AND HOME—THE CALL OF THE WILD
One wants to have been at the front, in the nasty parts, to appreciate fully what getting seven days' leave feels like. We used to have to be out at the front for three consecutive months before being entitled to this privilege. I had passed this necessary apprenticeship, and now had actually got my leave. The morning after getting my instructions I rose early, and packed the few things I was going to take with me. Very few things they were, too. Only a pack and a haversack, and both contained n
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BACK FROM LEAVE—THAT "BLINKIN' MOON" —JOHNSON 'OLES—TOMMY AND "FRIGHTFULNESS" —EXPLORING EXPEDITION
BACK FROM LEAVE—THAT "BLINKIN' MOON" —JOHNSON 'OLES—TOMMY AND "FRIGHTFULNESS" —EXPLORING EXPEDITION
As I had expected, the battalion were just finishing their last days out in rest billets, and were going "in" the following night. Reaction from leave set in for me with unprecedented violence. It was horrible weather, pouring with rain all the time, which made one's depression worse. Leave over; rain, rain, rain; trenches again, and the future looked like being perpetually the same, or perhaps worse. Yet, somehow or other, in these times of deep depression which come to every one now and again,
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A DAYLIGHT STALK—THE DISUSED TRENCH— "DID THEY SEE ME?"—A GOOD SNIPING POSITION
A DAYLIGHT STALK—THE DISUSED TRENCH— "DID THEY SEE ME?"—A GOOD SNIPING POSITION
Our farm was, as I have remarked, a mile from the trenches at the nearest part, and about a mile and a half from the furthest. Wulverghem was about half a mile behind the farm. As time went on at these Douve trenches, I became more and more familiar with the details of the surrounding country, for each day I used to creep out of the farm, and when I had crossed the moat by a small wooden bridge at the back, I would go off into the country near by looking at everything. One day the Colonel expres
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OUR MOATED FARM—WULVERGHEM—THE CURÉ'S HOUSE—A SHATTERED CHURCH —MORE "HEAVIES"—A FARM ON FIRE
OUR MOATED FARM—WULVERGHEM—THE CURÉ'S HOUSE—A SHATTERED CHURCH —MORE "HEAVIES"—A FARM ON FIRE
Our farm was one of a cluster of three or four, each approximately a couple of hundred yards apart. It was perhaps the largest and the most preserved of the lot. It was just the same sort of shape as all Flemish farms—a long building running round three sides of the yard, in the middle of which there was an oblong tank, used for collecting all the rubbish and drainage. The only difference about our farm was, we had a moat. Very superior to all the cluster in consequence. Sometime or other the mo
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THAT RATION FATIGUE——SKETCHES IN REQUEST—BAILLEUL—BATHS AND LUNATICS—HOW TO CONDUCT A WAR
THAT RATION FATIGUE——SKETCHES IN REQUEST—BAILLEUL—BATHS AND LUNATICS—HOW TO CONDUCT A WAR
T They seemed to me long, dark, dismal days, those days spent in the Douve trenches; longer, darker and more dismal than the Plugstreet ones. Night after night I crossed the dreary mud flat, passed the same old wretched farms, and went on with the same old trench routine. We all considered the trenches a pretty rotten outfit; but every one was fully prepared to accept far rottener things than that. There was never the least sign of flagging determination in any man there, and I am sure you could
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GETTING STALE—LONGING FOR CHANGE— WE LEAVE THE DOUVE—ON THE MARCH— SPOTTED FEVER—TEN DAYS' REST
GETTING STALE—LONGING FOR CHANGE— WE LEAVE THE DOUVE—ON THE MARCH— SPOTTED FEVER—TEN DAYS' REST
The Douve trenches claimed our battalion for a long time. We went in and out with monotonous regularity, and I went on with my usual work with machine guns. The whole place became more and more depressing to me, and yet, somehow, I have got more ideas for my pictures from this part of the line than any other since or before. One's mental outlook, I find, varies very much from day to day. Some days there were on which I felt quite merry and bright, and strode along on my nightly rambles, calmly i
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A PLEASANT CHANGE—SUZETTE, BERTHE AND MARTHE—"LA JEUNE FILLE FAROUCHE"—ANDRÉ
A PLEASANT CHANGE—SUZETTE, BERTHE AND MARTHE—"LA JEUNE FILLE FAROUCHE"—ANDRÉ
On the next morning we left Bailleul, and the whole of our battalion marched off down one of the roads leading out into the country in a westerly direction. The weather was now excellent; so what with a prospect of a rest, fine weather and the departure from the Wulverghem trenches, we were all very merry and bright, and "going strong" all round. It seemed to us as if we had come out of some dark, wet under-world into a bright, wholesome locality, suitable for the habitation of man. Down the lon
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GETTING FIT—CARICATURING THE CURÉ— "DIRTY WORK AHEAD"—A PROJECTED ATTACK—UNLOOKED-FOR ORDERS
GETTING FIT—CARICATURING THE CURÉ— "DIRTY WORK AHEAD"—A PROJECTED ATTACK—UNLOOKED-FOR ORDERS
Military life during our ten days was to consist of getting into good training again in all departments. After long spells of trench life, troops get very much out of strong, efficient marching capabilities, and are also apt to get slack all round. These rests, therefore, come periodically to all at the front, and are, as it were, tonics. If men stayed long enough in trenches, I should say, from my studies in evolution, that their legs would slowly merge into one sort of fin-like tail, and their
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WE MARCH FOR YPRES—HALT AT LOCRE—A BLEAK CAMP AND MEAGRE FARE—SIGNS OF BATTLE—FIRST VIEW OF YPRES
WE MARCH FOR YPRES—HALT AT LOCRE—A BLEAK CAMP AND MEAGRE FARE—SIGNS OF BATTLE—FIRST VIEW OF YPRES
We marched off in the Bailleul direction, and ere long entered Bailleul. We didn't stop, but went straight on up the road, out of the town, past the Asylum with the baths. It was getting dusk now as we tramped along. "The road to Locre," I muttered to myself, as I saw the direction we had taken. We were evidently not going to the place we had been rehearsing for. "Locre? Ah, yes; and what's beyond Locre?" I pulled out my map as we went along. "What's on beyond Locre?" I saw it at a glance now, a
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GETTING NEARER——A LUGUBRIOUS PARTY—STILL NEARER—BLAZING YPRES—ORDERS FOR ATTACK
GETTING NEARER——A LUGUBRIOUS PARTY—STILL NEARER—BLAZING YPRES—ORDERS FOR ATTACK
A After about another twenty minutes' march we halted again. Something or other was going on up the road in front, which prevented our moving. We stood about in the lane, and watched the shells bursting in the town. We were able to watch shells bursting closer before we had been there long. With a screeching whistle a shell shot over our heads and exploded in the field on our left. This was the signal, apparently, for shrapnel to start bursting promiscuously about the fields in all directions, w
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RAIN AND MUD—A TRYING MARCH—IN THE THICK OF IT—A WOUNDED OFFICER—HEAVY SHELLING—I GET MY "QUIETUS!"
RAIN AND MUD—A TRYING MARCH—IN THE THICK OF IT—A WOUNDED OFFICER—HEAVY SHELLING—I GET MY "QUIETUS!"
At a little after midnight we left the field, marching down the road which led towards the Yser Canal and the village of St. Jean. Our transport remained behind in a certain field that had been selected for the purpose. The whole brigade was on the road, our battalion being the last in the long column. The road from the field in which we had been resting to the village of St. Jean passes through the outskirts of Ypres, and crosses the Yser Canal on its way. I couldn't see the details as it was a
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SLOWLY RECOVERING—FIELD HOSPITAL—AMBULANCE TRAIN—BACK IN ENGLAND
SLOWLY RECOVERING—FIELD HOSPITAL—AMBULANCE TRAIN—BACK IN ENGLAND
How I ever got back I don't know. I remember dragging myself into a cottage, in the garden of which lay a row of dead men. I remember some one giving me a glass of water there, and seeing a terribly mutilated body on the floor being attended to. And, finally, I remember being helped down the Wieltj road by a man into a field dressing station. Here I was labelled and sent immediately down to a hospital about four miles away. Arrived there, I lay out on a bench in a collapsed state, and I remember
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