Clive Ward - Trench 31

Night-times in the trenches were busy, and more often than not, dangerous. During darkness, the men formed work parties, who carried out repairs to the barbed wire defences, dug new trenches and carried out strategic operations.

In the trench, the men of C Company were ready with their rifles, waiting apprehensively for the signal.

‘There won’t be much left of the Germans after that lot,’ said Archie.

‘It’s not the big stuff that’ll get them, that just serves to keep their heads down. It’s the bullets, our bullets, that are more dangerous, so I hope you’ve all got your shooting eye in today,’ the Platoon Sergeant replied.

Deep down, they all hoped not to meet resistance when they attacked the wood. Then the guns went quiet. The Platoon Commander looked down nervously at his wrist watch, like a coach at a football match, waiting for the moment, seven-fifteen exactly, when the platoon was to climb over the parapet and advance towards the wood, under darkness. The message came down the line to fix bayonets.

‘Oh fuck, here we go, this is real isn’t it, I’m not dreaming, am I?’ Archie asked.

‘Could you bayonet somebody Archie?’ Bertram asked, shaking as he spoke.

‘Well, we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?’ Archie replied.

‘Oh, bloody hell, I’m shitting myself Archie.’

‘I’ve actually shat myself, Bertie.’

‘When we did the training all those months ago, I never in a month of Sundays thought we’d ever have to do it for real. To be honest, I don’t think I could stomach sticking a bayonet into someone. I thought the bayonets were just for toasting bread, opening bully beef cans and killing rats,’ said Bertie.

‘Well Private Ward, you need to change your thinking pretty sharpish. Remember, right parry, left parry, forward lunge straight for the throat. That’ll make their eyes bulge out of their heads. Left foot on the corpse and extract the bayonet, with a loud grunt! Remember that and you’ll be just fine,’ instructed the Platoon Sergeant.

‘Indeed, but Sergeant that was when we were bayonet training against sacks filled with straw, this is for real. If it does come to it, I’m having a bullet in the breach. Kill him from two or three yards with a bullet, no personal contact is what I say,’ Bertram replied.

‘Remember what the training Sergeant said. EACH DUMMY MUST BE REGARDED AS AN ACTUAL ARMED OPPONENT’ David added.

‘Yes, he was referring to you Bertie,’ Archie said, jokingly.

‘Fuck you Archie Butler!’ Bertram shifted from foot to foot nervously.

‘Less of the swearing Ward, save it for the Hun,’ reminded the Platoon Sergeant.

The bayonet drill was an important part of military training. Although only one percent of deaths in WWI were caused by bayonet attacks, they were an important psychological weapon.

Suddenly the guns fell completely silent.

‘Why have the guns stopped Sergeant?’ Archie asked.

‘They are just adjusting their sights to increase their range, we don’t want to be hit by our own shells, do we? Stand by everyone!’ shouted the Platoon Sergeant.

The guns started again and this time the bombardment came from the heavy artillery. It was now seven-fifteen. After a blast from the Company Commander’s whistle, they clambered over the parapets and advanced into the darkness. The barrage from their own artillery helped to keep enemy heads down. They moved forward, occasionally silhouetted by the flares and shell fire, some still smoking their pipes and cigarettes as a form of comfort. As they ran over the pock marked ground a few men staggered and fell.

One hundred yards from their objective the shelling stopped. C company quickly discovered that there was still plenty of Germans occupying the woods. The men took cover behind fallen trees and in craters. Then the fire fight began.

‘Steady lads, get on a target before you pull the trigger, conserve your ammunition!’ shouted the Platoon Sergeant.

Then the Germans fired a flare. Archie was in a vulnerable spot with hardly any cover at all. He was being targeted by a German sniper, five or six bullets chipped away at the tree in front of him. Archie prepared to move to better cover.

‘Stay where you are Archie, I can see him,’ David shouted, as he spotted Archie’s persistent friend.

David waited for the German spiked helmet to pop up again. It was a clean shot to the face.

‘Got the bastard, Archie, you won’t be getting any more rounds from that quarter.’

The flare died away and they advanced further towards the wood, trying their best not to lose touch with each other. The men clambered over the rotten ground, under constant fire, taking cover again when yet another flare went up. This time most of the platoon took cover in a large crater that a howitzer had kindly left behind earlier.

The Germans were entrenched about fifty yards to their front. They tried to lob their bombs from their trenches, but they all fell short of their aim. It was now completely dark and the men of C Company waited for the signal to assault the enemy trenches.

The Germans sent up more star shells and flares, hoping to catch the British soldiers unawares, perfect targets for their machine guns but the British kept their heads well down. One brave German soldier crawled towards the temporary home of C Company to throw his bombs in, but he was spotted. He threw his grenade but it missed its target. He got up and ran back towards the wood. Unfortunately, he was illuminated by his own flares. He didn’t make it back; a few dozen bullets made sure of that.

‘Well, that was a wasted journey wasn’t it? He won’t be trying that again,’ said David.

Everything went quiet. It became a deadly waiting game. There was no whistle this time. The plan was to wait for flanking machine guns to open up, to initiate the final assault. They advanced towards the wood lines under covering fire.

‘Here we go again,’ said David excitedly.

They fought like demons in the dark, watching for the flashes of the enemy rifles to indicate where they were. Bullets sprayed everywhere and men dropped all around as they rushed forward with their heads down and bayonets fixed. They fought their way through the deficient barbed wire to reach the German trenches and they were soon amongst the enemy.

‘Come on lads, let’s show the bastards!’ shouted the Platoon Commander.

But no sooner had they set amongst them with their bayonets, most of the enemy gave up, some retaliated at first, but their stamina for a fight had gone. The German soldiers all surrendered, apart from a few who resisted, who they picked off one by one until there were none. The wood had been taken. The enemy came from the trenches, hands in the air, trembling, clearly showing the effects of the heavy shelling. Exhausted from the arduous fight, some men flung themselves down to rest while others kept guard over the prisoners. Their period of rest didn’t last long. The shells started to rain down on what remained of the wood.

‘Somebody must have been marking the fight,’ exclaimed David.

‘We need to get the hell out of here!’ Archie sounded scared.

Just as Archie spoke, a huge explosion sent earth and trees flying. Detached limbs and body parts rained down around them, mainly from the German prisoners who had been blown sky high. The wood was their mark alright. The men were soon ordered to get out of that hell hole of a wood and move back to the safety of their own lines. The men frantically gathered the wounded and any remaining German prisoners and made their way back as fast as possible across No Man’s Land. The bullets continued to teem down around them, but they made it back, although not without suffering further casualties.

Following their retreat from the woods, those who had made it safely back to the trench saw a figure emerging out of the darkness staggering towards them. It didn’t take them long to realise it was a member of their own company, he hadn’t been with them long and must have got cut off from the rest of the company in No Man’s Land. He’d been badly hit by machine gun fire. His lower jaw was a shattered mess and he’d also been shot several times in his shoulders and legs, it was hard to believe he was still walking. He made it back to the trench and received immediate medical care. The soldier couldn’t speak because of his injuries, but before he was sent to the field hospital, he wrote a note.