Andrew Wareham - Falling into Battle

“If we get more men, sir, more battalions into the line, then yes. There’s a line forming north and south of us. That’s why they was trying to push through, sir. If they can’t break us here this week, they ain’t going any further.”

“Good. Keep the men digging. If we get deep enough, get them to cut out little dugouts for sleeping.”

A carrying party brought up ten thousand rounds for the company that afternoon and extra cold rations. An hour later another fatigue party carried in dixies of warm mutton stew – it had been hot when it left the field kitchens.

“Bloody awful food, Willoughby, but better than none. Eat up, man! You can’t fight hungry.”

The young lieutenant’s face showed an appreciation of the horrors of war.

There were attacks on the following day, but almost half-hearted as if the Germans were slowly accepting that their big push to the coast had failed.

A party of engineers came in late afternoon.

“Got a coil of barbed wire, Captain. Show you how to set the posts and fix a couple of lines in front of your trench. Pickaxes and shovels and sledgehammers for the posts, as well. Get used to it, sir – going to be a lot of wire before too long. We are to show you how to build a company machine gun position as well. There will be a Vickers team added in the next few days. You are lucky here, Captain, being up on a bit of a ridgeline. Most of the Front is on low ground – the trenches full of mud; you’ve only got six inches underfoot and that’s nothing compared to most. You can cut ditches to drain your trench. Make the best of it – you’re going to be here for a long time!”

A fortnight and they had settled in, were attempting to make themselves comfortable. Each platoon had its dugout, a little cave with a wooden and corrugated iron roof under four feet of dirt, so that half of the men could sleep under cover while the remainder were on duty. They had collected a substantial amount of firewood, were able to keep the tea kettles boiling and warm their hands at least when off duty.

Richard sat back in the officers’ dugout, tea in hand.

“Home from home, gentlemen. We can expect to be here for a month or two, I would imagine, a little longer perhaps. It will take a few weeks to put together a force of guns and foot to make a breakthrough and let the cavalry loose behind the German lines. Probably best not attempted in midwinter, so April or May of ’15 before we bring it to an end! Six months to victory, gentlemen!”

They toasted their inevitable success in army tea, knowing that the worst was over; the next stage must be a walkover.

Copyright © 2020 Andrew Wareham

KINDLE Edition

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